


Walk Me Home

by saiyanshewolf (gossamerstarsxx)



Series: Pour Out Your Heart [3]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Chronological, One Shot Collection, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29896332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gossamerstarsxx/pseuds/saiyanshewolf
Summary: Zane accidentally stays too late at the Stardrop Saloon, and winds up being the one to walk a very drunk Shane back to Marnie's ranch.
Relationships: Shane/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Shane/Player (Stardew Valley)
Series: Pour Out Your Heart [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936729
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Walk Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** : Drinking, alcohol abuse.
> 
>  **Notes** : This is kind of a variation on Shane's four-heart event.

# 1.

One evening near the beginning of summer, Zane trudges into her little cottage, feeling the first faint sense of accomplishment since she arrived. Despite her lack of experience, she had cleared a half acre of land and turned it into a decent garden, and now the fridge is overflowing with strawberries, rhubarb, cauliflower, and parsnips. The potatoes hadn't done well, true, and the young blueberry bushes never seemed to get over being transplanted, but everything else had fared better than she'd hoped.

After spending a long day tearing up some of her plots to prepare for summer, she shouldn't want to do anything but crawl into bed. Her back aches, her knees hurt, and her hands sting. Dirt had found its way into her gardening gloves despite her best efforts, and the white gauze bandages across her still-healing palms are no longer quite so white.

The whole time she's in the shower, Zane tries to talk herself into staying home. She's been working all day, and there's no reason for her to go out and drink alone at a country bar. It would make more sense to eat and go to bed...if she could sleep, that is. The valley is just so damn quiet.

It's the quiet that's bothering her, she realizes, twisting her long hair up into a thick towel and squeezing out the excess water. She had been alone in the city, sure, but there had always been people around - on the street, at work, in the apartment next door.

Living on the farm, it's nothing for her to go days at a time seeing and speaking to no one but Mochi. It's not that she wants to socialize - she still doesn't know anyone well enough for that and isn't sure she wants to - but she craves the familiar sounds of people just...being people.

After wrapping her hands up in fresh gauze, Zane decides to go out. The Saloon is within easy walking distance, after all; no need to worry about drinking too much and finding a ride home. Plus, she can eat actual food.

Zane leans over the tiny sink in the bathroom and applies a perfunctory coat of mascara before tying her damp hair up into its usual high ponytail. She throws on an old band t-shirt and some jeans, shoves her feet into her ancient Doc Martens, and goes to her bookshelf, selecting a paranormal romance paperback at random. She tucks it into one back pocket, puts her phone in the other, and slips her ID and credit card into her front pocket as she picks up her keys.

"Be good, Mochi," she says, giving the fluffy orange cat a gentle headbutt. "Love you."

Mochi meows. Zane mimics it back to him and walks out the door, locking it behind her from force of habit.

# 2.

It's a Friday night, and the Stardrop Saloon is as packed as it ever seems to get - which isn't very. Still, between the people of the valley and the music from the jukebox, Zane is content.

She opts for a tiny corner booth instead of her usual barstool, orders a plate of spaghetti and a vodka mule, and settles in to enjoy some quality purple prose. To her surprise, she's only interrupted once; Abigail notices what she's reading and nervously asks if she can borrow it when Zane's finished.

Bemused, Zane agrees; after all, the local library doesn't seem like a place that stocks up on smut.

The few other disturbances are accidents; she thinks she hears her name, only to look up and see someone approaching Shane. He had predicted that their rhyming names would get old fast (and it had been annoying) but after a few weeks Zane has almost gotten used to it.

Still, she can't help but wonder why anyone is trying to talk to Shane tonight. He seems to be in rare form, sitting slumped at a little table near his usual spot, guzzling cheap bear like water and staring into space.,

 _None of my business,_ Zane tells herself, and turns back to her book as Gus brings her another vodka mule.

# 3.

Zane doesn't realize how much time has passed until she reads the last sentence in her book; less than a minute later, Gus sets her tab on the table, and Zane looks up to see that the Saloon is all but empty.

 _Shit_ , she thinks, _I didn't mean to do that._

She hands Gus her card and picks up her tab, scanning over the items and wincing.

Five vodka drinks?

_Didn't mean to do that, either._

It had been over the course of six hours, but she's not used to drinking these days...and that becomes apparent as soon as she stands up.

"Thank you, Miss Zane," Gus says, returning her card. "You be careful walking home, now!"

"Thanks, I will," Zane replies, just before a huge yawn escapes her.

She stars toward the door, but a moment later she has to pause, grabbing the back of a booth for balance as her head spins.

 _Definitely out of practice_ , she thinks, with a hint of bitter humor.

As she waits for the dizziness to pass, Gus and Emily whisper to one another near the bar.

"Emily, can't you do something?" Gus says, and Zane turns toward the sound of his voice, hoping he isn't talking about her.

He isn't. Gus and Emily stand at the far end of the bar near the fireplace, gazing down at Shane, who slumps over his table with his head on his arms.

 _None of my business,_ Zane thinks, and tucks her book into her pocket.

She takes a step toward the door and the world lurches again.

 _Shit_.

Behind her, Emily heaves a sigh, and Zane turns once more.

"I can't move him and you know it," Emily says, staring down at Shane with an expression that wavers somewhere between pity and frustration. "He's working on a beer belly, sure, but most of him is still muscle. If he doesn't want to move, he's not moving."

"Hey, uh...Gus?" Zane says, "Could I get myself a glass of water? I drank a little more than I thought I did."

"Of course, of course," he says, gesturing for her to let herself behind the bar. "Take your time. It seems like we might be here for a little while."

Zane thanks him and makes her way behind the bar, trying to tune out the whispered talk between Gus and Emily as she sips on her water, but it's impossible. The two of them have been hesitating for almost a quarter of an hour; someone has to do something.

_Doesn't mean it has to be me._

She tries to listen to that practical little voice, but it's no use. She may not be in the same shape as Shane, but she's still had one drink too many, and she acts on impulse, refilling her water glass and going to stand with Gus and Emily in front of Shane.

"Back up," she mumbles.

"Miss Zane..." Gus begins, but she shushes him. He and Emily shrug and move back toward the bar.

Zane dumps the water on Shane's head and takes a quick step back.

He's on his feet in an instant, coughing and sputtering and stumbling as she shoves his wet hair back from his forehead. As he looks up he reels, catching himself against the edge of the table and glaring at the three of them with bloodshot green eyes that settle on Emily.

"Th'hell did y'do that for?!" He snarls at her; despite his slurred words, he's furious.

Emily holds up her hands to protest, but Zane slides between them before Emily can speak.

"She didn't, I did," she says. "C'mon. Time to go. They're kicking us out."

"Us?" Shane glares at her, swaying on his feet. "Us, hell."

He moves past her and stumbles into a barstool, which seems to piss him off more. Swearing under his breath, he pushes himself away from it, only to throw himself off balance.

Zane catches him by the shoulder and steadies him. She might not walk a straight line, but she's still in much better shape than Shane at the moment.

"Quit being an asshole," she hisses, too low for Gus and Emily to hear. "Just come with me and let them go home without worrying that you're gonna wind up in a ditch."

Shane laughs; it's low, bitter, and mirthless.

"If only," he sneers, and shrugs away from her again...only to reel off to the side once more.

Zane cocks an eyebrow as he catches himself against the edge of a booth, and Shane swears again, realizing that he isn't going anywhere without help. This time when Zane reaches out to steady him, he allows himself to be led toward the door.

As Zane turns her head to wave at Gus and Emily, Emily points to the dry-erase special board, where she's written a message: _Thank you! Please be careful! I'll call Marnie and let her know you're on your way!_

Zane gives her a thumbs-up and guides Shane through the Saloon door and into the balmy summer night.

# 4.

"You're gonna have to tell me how to get to Marnie's from here," Zane says, yawning into the crook of her arm as she guides Shane down the sidewalk. "I only know how to get there from my place, but I think that's probably out of the way."

Shane directs her with clipped, one-word answers. For a few minutes it seems as if he might get ahold of himself, but not long after they leave behind the glowing streetlights of town for the shadowy path into Cindersnap Forest, he shoves her away and stumbles up against a tree to throw up.

Zane waits, unfazed. She'd spent most of her late teens and almost all her twenties drinking like it was her job; the process is familiar. Once she judges him to be finished, she heaves his arm back over her shoulder and coaxes him back onto the path.

As they get closer to the ranch, however, the smell of manure gets stronger and stronger. Zane's stomach churns; she doesn't handle powerful scents well even when she's sober, and while she can acclimate herself to them, this is one she hasn't gotten used to just yet.

Nausea creeps in despite her best efforts, and before long she breaks away from Shane, clutching her ponytail in one hand as she gags and dry-heaves into the bushes. Nothing comes up; she hadn't expected it would, but the sensation is miserable all the same.

While she's battling her nausea, Shane weaves off the path and into the forest. Zane gets control of herself just in the nick of time - another minute or two and she'd have lost him.

"Shane?" She hurries after him, forcing herself to ignore the lingering odor of manure, and grabs him by the arm to pull him back on course. "C'mon, Marnie's is this way."

"Leemelone." He snatches his arm out of her grip, shifting back toward the woods. "Docks, I want - wanna sit..."

"Oh, no you don't." Zane maneuvers in front of him, blocking his way. "If you sit down, I'm never gonna get you back up. Besides, you might roll off and drown."

She puts her hands on his shoulders to turn him around again, but he forces his way past her.

"Good," he mumbles, "Go 'way."

Zane stops short, shaken, but her hesitation doesn't last long. She might be nowhere close to Shane's level of intoxication, but she isn't sober, either. Spurred by the same impulse that had driven her to throw the water in his face, Zane narrows her eyes and moves in front of Shane once more, grabbing double handfuls of his hoodie instead of putting her hands on his shoulders. There's maybe an inch difference in their height, and she eliminates it by rising to her tiptoes.

"No, not good," she says, glaring at him. "Very not good, actually. I'm not going anywhere until I get your drunk ass in the damn house where you belong."

Shane swears again; he reaches for her and seizes her by the shirt, as if he intends to get past her by force. She can sense he's gathering himself to do just that as his muscles tense and shift underneath her grip, but it doesn't occur to Zane to be afraid or back down.

Shane deflates within seconds. He drops her shirt and backs away, a brief, pained awareness flooding his face; he looks so distraught that Zane is terrified he's about to cry.

_I'd almost rather him be aggressive._

To her relief, the expression fades into resignation. Shane turns and tries to walk back toward the ranch, but he's still weaving and unsteady on his feet. Zane pulls his arm back over her shoulder without a word, guiding him along the path and taking care to breathe through her mouth.

# 5.

Shane crashes toward passing out with terrifying speed. By the time they reach the door to Marnie's, Zane is half-carrying him. She's all but resigned herself to digging his keys out of his pocket herself when the light flicks on inside.

Marnie opens the door. She wears a green flannel housecoat and slippers, and her hair is loose around her shoulders. With a heavy sigh, the steps to the side to let them in, and Zane recognizes the love and pain in her face, overshadowing any hint of anger or annoyance.

"Can you lug him a little further?" She asks, keeping her voice low. "I'd take him, but it's hell on my knees when he's dead weight."

"Sure." Zane replies. "But, uh, why are we whispering?"

"I don't want Jas to see him like this," Marnie answers, leading the way down the hall.

Shane mutters something incoherent and makes an abrupt, jerky movement, throwing Zane off balance. Together they stumble into the wall, knocking down a picture that shatters in its frame.

Marnie turns around, alarmed.

"Sorry," Zane whispers, wrestling with Shane as he tries to get him to keep moving toward his bedroom. "Sorry, he's just - he's getting..."

"Jas? Wha' 'bout Jas?" Shane mutters, lifting his head and glancing around with wild, manic eyes. "She okay? Where'm...where she? Where's she, somethin' happen...?! Jas?!"

The fear and panic in his voice keeps rising as he struggles against her. Zane and Marnie both try to shush him, assuring him that Jas is safe, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Jas!" He half-shouts, trying to twist out of Zane's arms. "Jas!"

"Shane, please," Marnie whispers, "Please!"

Somewhere behind them, from another hallway, a door opens, followed by a soft, shy little voice: "Shane...?"

Zane freezes in place.

> _(Mama...?)_

"Jas!" Shane tries to stand up straight, tries to move toward the sound of her voice, but he has no balance, no coordination. "Jas, please...!"

Zane's heart pounds in her chest as Marnie covers her face with her hands; she seems to be on the verge of tears.

"I'm so sorry," Marnie is saying, "He isn't - it isn't usually this bad...stays away from her when he's...but he..."

Zane doesn't hear what follows; she doesn't need to, because she already knows the story.

> _(Go back to your room, honey. Mama is sick right now.)_
> 
> _(She's my daughter! Lemme see my daughter!)_

Shane's petulant, demanding voice jerks her back into the moment, and Zane sets her jaw, her chest heaving as she turns toward Marnie.

"Marnie, stop her before she comes into the hall," Zane hisses, curling her fist into Shane's shirt beneath his hoodie to keep him from stumbling away. "Quick. Tell her he's sick and she can't see him right now."

Marnie doesn't protest; she seems to pick up on Zane's turn in mood and slips past her and Shane to head off Jas before her footsteps get any closer.

Shane is getting more and more belligerent as he tries to wrestle away from Zane.

"I can see 'erif I wan," he snaps, stumbling into the wall again as he pulls away from her grip on his shirt. "She's my - my goddaughter, I can..."

"Stop being selfish," Zane snarls and grabs his thick wrist. She jerks him back toward her, no longer even pretending to be gentle, and manhandles him down the hall a step at a time.

"Shut up and get in your goddamn room," she snaps, as he tries again to argue and fight her.

Shane grumbles and whines, but he's too drunk to outmaneuver her. Zane closes his bedroom door with one booted foot before shoving him toward his bed.

"Sit down," she mutters; when he refuses, trying to get past her toward the door, she grabs him by the hoodie and makes him sit.

"Jas is fine," she says firmly, leaving one hand on his chest in case he tries again. "Do you hear me? She's fine, but she won't be if you interact with her while you're shitfaced like this."

"What d'you know?" Shane grumbles, shoving her hand away and leaning over his knees. "Y'don't even know anybody here, th'hell d'you think you are, anyway?!"

"I don't have to know you. I know drunk and I know selfish, and right now you're both," Zane retorts, her voice wavering with suppressed feeling. "You want to see Jas because you love her, because she's what's important to you, because she's what matters...and because you know she'll make you feel better. Because you know she'll tell you it's okay every time you apologize for all the ways you feel like you're failing her. And she will, because she loves you too, and then you'll pass out in bed or on the bathroom floor, but she won't sleep, Shane. She'll lie awake crying because she doesn't understand what's the matter with you. Because your breath smells nasty and you can't walk right or talk right and it scares her. Because she feels guilty for telling you what you wanted to hear so you'd get away from her faster. So do her a favor, Shane, and leave her the hell alone until you're sober again, all right?"

Zane intends to leave after this diatribe; she even turns toward the door. Her heart is in her throat and she doesn't like the tight, painful vice that has locked around her chest, but the sound of Shane crying brings her up short.

She turns to look at him. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, feet propped on the bed frame, face buried in the tops of his knees, arms wrapped tight over his head. His shoulders tremble with every gasp for breath and his fingers are tangled deep into his hair. Every sob sounds as if he's torn it from somewhere deep in his chest, as if he's flaying himself from the inside.

Zane turns back toward the door and tries to make herself walk through it.

Instead, she walks toward Shane's bed and sits down beside him, resting her hand on his back.

For a long while, Shane doesn't acknowledge her. It isn't until his tears taper off he even lifts his head, and when he does, he doesn't look at her; the only sign that he's aware of her presence is the fact that he mumbles _Excuse me_ before getting to his feet and stumbling through the door across the room.

Zane watches, sympathetic, as Shane hits his knees and vomits into the toilet. He does it again, and again, and then - after about five minutes - one more time.

Zane gives him a little while, but he doesn't move. She ought to let him pass out where he sits, but yet again, her feet carry her toward him instead of out of the room.

"All right, big guy," she mumbles, crouching down next to him and pushing his violet hair out of bleary, bloodshot eyes, "On your feet. C'mon."

Shane doesn't even bother to speak. He takes her hand and lets her heave him upright, bracing his back against the wall and scrubbing his hands down his face.

"Take a shower," Zane says, because it's what she's always done in his position. "All right? Quick one."

His only response is a nod. As Zane steps out of the bathroom, he is already peeling his shirt over his head, oblivious to the still-open door.

Zane pushes it to without closing it, refusing to watch him undress - if he can't manage that much on his own, he's in worse shape than she thought. For a moment she considers leaving again, but since she's stuck around this long, she may as well do things right.

It's as good an excuse as any to avoid examining her reasons for staying.

She slips out of Shane's room, and after a brief whispered conversation with Marnie, acquires a fresh set of bedsheets and a bottle of water. She sets the water on his nightstand, then strips his bed and fits it with clean sheets. As an afterthought, she grabs the trash can from the corner of his room and sets it next to the bed.

That done, she pokes through his dresser until she finds a clean pair of pajama pants. He doesn't seem to have many clothes, and most of those don't seem to have been worn in quite a while. The pajama pants feel comfortable, however, even if the cartoon chicken print is hideous.

When the shower stops running, she thrusts her arm into the bathroom to hand him the pajamas. He takes them after a moment's hesitation, and a moment later she hears the sounds of teeth being brushed...followed by the unmistakable rattle of a pill bottle.

Fear blooms in her chest as she remembers his words from earlier, after she had stopped him from going to the dock; on the heels of that memory comes another, older and worse, of herself staring at a heaping handful of Vicodin.

Heart pounding, seized by the same impulsiveness that has plagued her all night, Zane flings the bathroom door open.

Shane is shirtless, his wet violet hair pushed straight back from his forehead, staring at her with bewildered, bloodshot eyes. He holds three pills in his palm; on the counter in front of him sits a large bottle of generic, over-the-counter pain relief medication.

Zane blinks, embarrassed and unsure what to say. The only coherent thought that drifts through her head is that Emily had been right - Shane's working on a beer belly, but through the arms, chest, and shoulders, he's all muscle.

Horrified at her train of thought, Zane looks up at the ceiling.

"So are you, uh, all right?" she asks, a little too quickly.

"Hell d'you think?" Shane asks, regarding her with a slight scowl as he tosses the pills down his throat and chases them with a swallow of water from the sink. "Look, I...I do appreciate you making sure I didn't...uh. Didn't do anything...stupid. But right now, looking at you makes me wanna crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment, so could you just...leave me alone? Please?"

He trudges past her toward his bed. Zane averts her eyes, jaw clenched, annoyed at herself for being hurt by his response.

 _That's what I get,_ she thinks, turning the doorknob. _I don't even know what I'm doing here, anyway. Should have let Emily handle it._

"Zane?"

Shane's voice is soft, puzzled. She pauses in the doorway and turns to look at him, one eyebrow arched.

"Did you...change my sheets?" he asks.

Zane huffs, already turning to leave. "Somebody needed to."

The door shuts behind her. Shane stares at the closed door for a long while before looking back down at his bed and heaving a long, trembling sigh. With one last glance at his door, he swears under his breath and crawls into bed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to be notified when I update this series, go [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936729) and hit the 'subscribe' button!
> 
> You can find more about me [here](https://saiyanshewolf.carrd.co)!
> 
> Check my [Zane](https://saiyanshewolf.tumblr.com/tagged/sdv+farmer) tag on tumblr for fanart!


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